


Indulgence

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Play, Masturbation in Shower, Other, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"An over-indulgence of anything, even something as pure as water, can intoxicate"- Criss Jami.</p><p>Khan has a shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gail/gifts).



The campaign had been a long, tedious affair and Khan’s body was beginning to show signs of rare fatigue. Not from muscle expenditure, no, it would take far more than a fumbling band of Starfleet soldiers and their fleet of pursuer ships to wear-down a superior specimen such as himself, but rather it was due to lack of sleep. Not even an advanced being such as he could subsist on field rations and righteous fury alone, no matter the benediction of the cause. 

He would have to take his rest now or risk permanent damage to his frontal cortex. By his count, his body had not had adequate rest outside of micro-sleeps for over twelve days now. It was a wonder he was still standing, Khan acknowledged. Even for him it was a long period of restlessness. 

Fatigue weighed down his muscles as he walked through the bowls of the veda-class freighter he had stolen at the previous space-port. Khan smiled humourlessly to himself as he entered his chosen quarters for the night; the Andorians had never seen his attack coming. Khan licked his lips. If he concentrated he could still taste the spicy tang of their unique blood secretions on his tongue. Of all the blood in all the species in the known universe, Khan was of the single-minded opinion that an Andorians tasted the sweetest.

Khan made a point of getting a taste whenever he was able as a matter of personal satisfaction. It was only healthy to spoil one’s self on occasion after all. 

Striding past his meager possessions, still unpacked due to necessity more than any serious time constraints (though there were those as well), Khan moved through his quarters and into the adjoining bathroom.

It was small, grey coloured and mostly unpleasant aesthetically as most things were on this freighter. It was a ship built for practicality rather than luxury, which was of no consequence to Khan of course, but was something he none-the-less noted along with a million other details that may or may not become of use to him later on. The only detail of any importance in this space at the moment was, of course, the water shower.

Khan allowed himself the luxury of a smile as he reached into the cubicle and turned up the water as hot as it would go. It was rare to find anything but a sonic shower in deep space vessels, especially ones such as these— primarily manned by the unintelligent, dirty kind of space-faring swine. The kind who wouldn’t spring for a decontamination booth when travelling to quarantined worlds, let alone the extravagance of a water shower. He wasn’t supremely confident those types even bathed.

Never-the-less, Khan was uncharacteristically grateful for the addition in this case. It would be just what he needed to relax his muscles and slip into the reparative sleep his damaged mind and body most needed. 

Khan shucked his clothes without ceremony, whipping his black tunic over his head and dropping his pants before stepping out. He toed off his shoes and sat down on the closed toilet to peel his socks away from the aching arches of his feet, briefly indulging himself by rubbing the crescent mooned curves of his feet with both thumbs, feeling the soft sinew ripple and move with his own commanding touch. Khan hummed at the pleasant ache the stimulation brought then pressed them back into the tiles once more.

Levering to his feet, Khan stood straight and padded over to the shower cubicle. The small room was steaming with water evaporation and he could no longer make out his ravaged reflection in the mirror it was so fogged over.

Khan stepped under the spray and sighed, feeling the stinging water hit the back of his neck and sluice down the chiseled lines of his back and over his body. Khan rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck and licked his lips decadently as the hot water bathed his scalp and ran down the taut lines of his body—marble white from years spent under the veil of London weather, yet chiseled as the likeness of a sculpted modern Adonis.

The water was blisteringly hot and it made Khan’s confused body shiver as though it did not know whether the water bathing him was hot or cold, but Khan knew, and he revelled in the depraved pleasure-pain of the experience. There was something drugging about a too-hot shower Khan observed, it confused the mind, ensnared the senses and made him almost dizzy with heady arousal. Biting back a moan, Khan turned his face into the spray and nearly moaned at the pure heat of it over the crystal cut of his prominent cheekbones. 

Baring his throat to the spray, Khan sighed and let his head loll back into the humid air. If he lifted his hand, Khan knew he would not be able to see it due to the fog blanketing his body at every angle. Water rocketed over his body and cut through the mist long enough to lift the cloying fog, but when he turned his back on the spray, let it trail over the small of his back, over the curve of his ass, the fog embraced him like a lover might and Khan sucked in large gulps of the heavy mist, entirely entranced by the unexpected sensuality of the experience.

Khan let his hands trail over the hard plains of his body, his sculpted chest, chiselled abs, thick thighs and round ass and bit back a moan. The moment was drugging in its sensuality and Khan was addicted to the feel of his own flesh under his fingers. Treating himself, Khan ran a hand over his chest, tracing the small, shrivelled pink nub of a nipple before catching it between his fingers and squeezing gently, then harder, then the other nipple as well and continued to do so until he was near panting just from that act alone. When his cock began to rise Khan relented and continued onwards, down to the hard planes of his stomach where he scratched his blunt nails up the sparse trail of hair and let himself tug, and down again to the arrow lines of his pelvis. Trailing the curve of his pelvis and thigh with his thumb, Khan bit back a sigh and began to play with his public hair.

The hair was damp and slightly curly, bunching up attractively against his pelvis and nesting the hard jut of his cock well. Khan scratched his fingers through the hair, tugging just to feel the zing of pleasure-pain shoot up his spine and effuse in his brain. Khan licked his lips and let himself, gently, and only slightly, brush his fingers over the root of his cock. Toes curling at the tease, Khan almost growled. Soon, he told himself, you’ll get there soon. He wasn’t ready yet though.

The water pounded over Khan’s back and he turned back into it with a sigh on his lips. It ran over his lips and into his mouth before over-flowing and running down the chorded line of his neck. Khan’s fingers followed the water into his mouth and spitting the excess, he made himself suck hard. When his fingers were as coated as he could make them under such conditions, Khan reached back behind himself and pulled the cheeks of his ass apart with his other hand. The humidity tickled his ass playfully as Khan brushed his wet fingers over the tight furrow of his hole. Khan felt the familiar, but rarely indulged, ache in his tailbone as his hidden place was barely stimulated and rubbed slippery fingers over his entrance harder, appeasing.

Khan did not do this often. Not because he subscribed to any of the frankly ridiculous prejudices of Terran male sexuality that the species propagated, but because a sore ass is not particularly conducive to his kind of savagery and, frankly, nothing could get in the way of the cause--especially not such simple pleasures of the body. 

But, oh, they were pleasures. 

Slipping the tip of his index-finger into himself, past the dry clutch of his muscled furrow, Khan spared a thought to his crew and allowed himself to indulge in thoughts of the future and the coming days of the cause reborn into the new century. Yes, Khan thought with a guttural moan when his finger slipped back all the way into his body, they would rule this new world.

Khan pumped the sole finger in and out of himself, revelling in the dry scratch of it, only barely allayed by his own spit. Resisting the urge to brush over his prostate, Khan worked in another finger and tipped his head back, mouth open in a small red ‘o’. The burn was brilliant, a delicious yet teasing ache--like an itch only lightly scratched, or the peeling of freshly healed skin over sunburn. 

Khan panted into the moist air and licked his already wet lips until they were shiny, and bit them until they were plump like a ripe peach just to feel the sting. Twisting and scissoring his two fingers inside himself, Khan felt his hole slacken to accommodate the new stretch and groaned his disappointment. He needed the burn back. 

Before the thought had even been properly processed, Khan found himself thrusting two more mostly dry fingers past the resistance of his muscled ring so hard and fast he actually choked. Khan’s hips stuttered at the stinging burn and his teeth clacked together on a hiss. After a still moment where only the sound of the flowing water on tile and Khan’s own harsh breaths filled the air, he began to move again. Khan thrust himself back on his fingers shamelessly and moaned aloud when the points of his fingers barrelled into his prostate--accidentally at first, then without a hint of mercy. 

His cock was almost full now and Khan was nearly too distracted by the fingers plunging in and out of the hungry-heat of his ass to notice. His eyes opened (when had he closed them?) and focused on his own cock again. It stood erect, proud and heavy between his legs. His thighs flexed with every thrust back onto his fingers and his balls swung obscenely behind his dick. Khan moaned and fisted his cock harshly, almost strangling the base for fear of coming by his fingers alone. 

The humid air cradled Khan, the shower spray beat heavy and blistering at his back, over his shoulders to pool at his groin before running down his thighs. Khan fisted his cock slowly, the wet drag of it under the water a concentrated pleasure right in his cock and balls—a direct contrast to the all-consuming bodily pleasure of the fingers ramming his prostate, abusing his hole until it felt raw with it. Until Khan felt raw and taken apart with it. 

The combined pleasure was maddening. Khan thrust forward into the clutch of his hand and back onto the precise rods of his fingers. The drag on his cock was intoxicating, the thrum of his fingers against his prostate almost too much to stand: not pleasure, not pain, just sensation now. The heady smell of his own arousal in the air, the pure, wet heat of the experience was almost too much to stand.

Khan could feel himself ramping up, approaching oblivion and fisted his cock harder despite himself. He had no control here anymore, only saccharine want and overwhelming heat. 

The most undignified sound came out of his mouth when he thrust himself back on his fingers so hard he swore he tasted the pleasure in the back of his throat—a kind of high whine, so at odds with the usual low timbre of his voice. Khan shuddered at the sound of it, at the pleasure of undoing himself in this way, to such an extent, and did it again just to hear himself make the degrading sound over. 

Khan whined, Khan moaned, Khan panted into the humid spray of the shower and thrust between the twin pleasures of his own hands. Then he was coming, coming so hard that for a moment Khan swore the world blinked out of existence.

His cock shot onto the tiles, two, three, four, five times before deflating soft and spent against his thigh. His hole clenched and rippled tightly around his fingers, his inner walls contracting and releasing his splayed fingers. Khan road the waves of his orgasm to their shuddering conclusion and them slumped spent and sated against the shower wall.

When he came back to himself hot water ran over his face, no longer blistering. Khan had probably used up the majority of the hot water for a good long while with that little indulgence, but that hardly mattered. He could pick up another spacer at the next port if he so desired, maybe another Andorian one. 

Collecting his spent muscles, Khan turned off the shower and padded from the bathroom into his room. Brushing his things off of the bed, Khan reclined back, paying little mind to the dampness of his body on the sheets and his hair soaking through the thin pillow.

Feeling the pleasantly abused ache in his ass and the glowing relaxation of his languid musculature, Khan smiled and let himself begin to drift off into a well-deserved sleep. 

Such indulgences of the flesh were not necessary or conducive to the cause, but every once and while Khan indulged regardless. Such things were intoxicating after all.


End file.
